Mask
by Lou2U
Summary: <html><head></head>She was happy because of him.</html>


**Disclaimer: I promise you, these characters aren't mine. I just want to use them for my own purposes…in a nice way. Most of the time.**

O

Snape was coming towards her. Only it wasn't Snape, it was _Severus_ and he was young and she was young and they were standing together under the sun.

She was smiling.

He was smiling his little-boy smile, the one where half of his face seemed to be happier than the other half. It was his smile, the one that said he _shouldn't_ be happy, he wasn't _supposed_ to be happy because his parents were always arguing but he was happy anyway.

He was happy because of her.

And she was happy too, she was smiling her own happy smile, the one where her whole face lit up. It was her smile, the one that said she _could_ be happy even though her sister hated her.

She was happy because of him.

When he saw her smile, his own flicked where it was down and it grew until all of him was happy. It wasn't his bitter smile or his self-satisfied smile, it was a big grin that held innocence and ideas, hope and honesty.

Then he spoke and he told her about magic. Dragons and potions and spells and everything, everything that belonged in a children's book, a fantasy book where good always won.

And then she realised that they were sitting, she didn't remember how or when, but she could feel the grass making imprints on her legs where her dress couldn't reach. He was wearing trousers, old trousers, too big trousers and she didn't know why it suddenly mattered so much but it did.

They were silent.

She looked into Severus' eyes and in them she could see her reflection peering back at her. She could see no hatred, no heat, but she could see anger. Old anger that had built up over the years, building a brick wall away from light, but that was the only power it had. It had been there too long to cause flames.

Hadn't it?

And just as she thought this, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, but it wasn't his hand, it was a man's hand with a man's strength. But at the same time, it was his hand and it was his strength and it was his fury, his passionate rage that had been there ever since she'd known him and she tried to pull away gasping but he held on tight tight tight with his horrible self-satisfied smile that Potter and Black had caused whenever they'd gotten into trouble-

It was her. He had caught her, lured her in under the pretence of an old friendship and he'd been hiding behind a mask of innocence which had melted off his face.

Off his face and onto her lap, her dress and then onto the floor because she wasn't sitting down any more.

It was dark, and she was suspended from her ankles and she could see nothing but hear everything and she knew without knowing that there was a crowd enjoying her screams and pleas.

A crowd of evil:

Mulciber

Rosier

Malfoy

Avery

Rookwood

And then she realised she didn't know who they were, who _any_ of them were and she didn't know where she was or what had happened and they were laughing at her naivety, her self-inflicted blindness that came from a refusal to see the truth.

There was light.

She was not blind any more.

The crowd were all wearing black, with hoods and masks, with snake slits for eyes and holes for tongues and words were slipping from them, curses and chanting mixed with laughter.

She knew now.

So loud, _so loud_, she couldn't focus, couldn't concentrate and there was pain, so much pain and red light and blood and she was choking on her own screams, her own tears

Was she going to die?

Would her oldest friend, her best friend, really betray her?

No.

But he was one of these people, cowering behind a mask, he could be chanting, he could be the one shouting _Crucio_, he could be laughing, he could be watching, he could be anything behind one of these masks.

How would she know?

She wouldn't.

She wasn't supposed to. That was the point, he was a killer, they were all killers, but not him, not Severus, not her friend.

Severus.

Sever us.

What did that leave her with?

Snape.

_"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"_

O

Eyes open.

Awake.

Darkness.

Gasping. Suffocating? No. Too hot.

Tears. Even more tears.

Heart pounding. Ribcage. Ears.

Shaking.

Panic.

What it real did that happen was it real no not him he's not-

Severus, Severus…

Will I kill him one day?

Will it be me?

He's not evil.

Isn't he?

How am I supposed to know what's behind the mask? 

Did I ever know or

Was he always hiding, skulking, pretending

behind a mask?

**O**

Author's note: So. I don't really know how I feel about this. I mean, I like it and all, but I'm not entirely sure if it _worked_. Let me know what you think? Any feedback is welcome, with the exception of flames – I want to know how I can get better!

I would also like to sincerely apologise to anyone who clicked on this and thought it would be a Snily fic. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


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